Why Didn't They Just?
by VelocityGirl1980
Summary: A lighthearted look at how the Spooks team could have saved an awful lot of trouble for themselves, as well as others, if they'd just done something else instead. Not at all serious, probably shouldn't even be publishing it, but I can't bring myself to simply delete it. In this, Ruth decides enough is enough and goes for a pint with Harry, instead.


**Summary/Notes:** Even the smallest of changes have a ripple effect. One seemingly innocuous choice, made in heat of the moment, can have massive ramifications. So what if, when things are at their bleakest and things are going from bad to worse and we know the consequences are going to be utterly catastrophic, the Spooks team just do something else instead?

Please be advised, this is not in the least bit serious and was outlined as a bit of fun while bored at work. It's out of character; simply did not and would not happen in the show; but, would have made things a lot easier if it did! A one shot – maybe more if I ever get bored at work again (and no one finds it bone achingly awful).

* * *

**Here For The Beer**

Harry strode purposefully across the Grid; the stride that sends the subordinates scattering into the side lines clutching their papers for dear life. As well they might; Oliver Mace was making his life hell; humiliating him in front of those he regarded as friends. His mood was apocalyptic and the day was going from bad to worse. He rounded a corner, almost knocking Jo into a nearby desk but kept on going, regardless.

"Adam," he beckoned his Section Chief over. "Cotterdam Prison, I want to go back over everything concerning the fire."

"I thought Special Branch were taking care that?" Carter answered with a further question, something else that annoyed him. Over Adam's shoulder, Zaf looked worried.

"So did I," retorted Harry. "It appears they've done nothing more than write what they were told to. "I think those terrorists were murdered and someone's protecting their killers. We could be sleep walking into vigilantism." He turns, walking away from Adam already. As a parting shot he calls over his shoulder: "Get everyone assembled."

Normally, walking just a few paces across the Grid and finding himself face to face with Ruth Evershed would be enough to make his spirits lift again. But no such luck, this morning of mornings. She's still pale and shaken, in need of a stiff drink.

"Ruth," he gets her attention, checking his tone. "Have you told anyone what you witnessed this morning?"

The reminder didn't go down well. She turned to lift a stack of files, as though needing the distraction from recalling those terrible events. "No," she replied, stiffly.

"Or lodged a report, as I asked?"

"Not yet."

Her replies were short, declarative; unwilling to elaborate.

"Good," he nods.

"What do you mean 'good', I thought-"

"Anything back on the ten pound note?" he asked, cutting her off abruptly.

"Malcolm's still looking at it," she replied. "Why?"

"Let's just call it, an uncomfortable feeling."

* * *

Ruth watched him stalk away, still none the wiser as to what, exactly, was going on. She had gone over and over what had happened that morning. The more she tried not to think of it, the more it seemed to sneak up on her, jumping out at her at the least provocation. All this at a time when she felt things were finally going right for her.

She attempted to return to work; to 'take her mind off things' but knowing Malcolm was still running tests on the fateful tenner was weighing on her mind. She sat down, only to stand back up again. She went to make a cup of tea she knew she would not drink, just to give her trembling hands something to do. Then, she caved in and went to find Malcolm.

She found him closeted away in an office, crisp bank note in hand. She didn't need to say anything, not even a perfunctory hello, before he was on his feet.

"Nothing on it, sorry," he said, mustering a rather forced smile.

Ruth's heart sank. "Are you sure?"

Malcolm was adamant. "I've scoured it; put it through a scanner. Nothing at all; it's just an ordinary tenner."

She hadn't given up just yet, however. She leaned away from the door frame, holding the note gingerly between her fingers. "There's no other tests you can run?"

"Well, I could blow it up, if you like? Set fire to it…"

She tried to smile, but dropped her head to hide her disappointment. "It's okay. Thanks," she replied quietly.

Moments later, she found herself back in the Office of Harry Pearce. The ten pound note splayed out on the desk between them. They both scrutinised it intensely; willing it to reveal its secrets. All that happened was that the Queen smiled benignly up at them, sheer indifference in her eyes. Both seemed reluctant to say anything in the wake of Malcolm's test results; that Harry's gut feeling had been entirely wrong.

Ruth leaned forward, braced her elbows on the desk and looked at the note thoughtfully. "We could carry on trying to fathom it out," she said, lifting her gaze to meet Harry's. "Or, we could just use it to get a round in down The George."

His expression was briefly marred by a passing cloud of confusion, but he soon perked up. "After the day we've had," he conceded, "we could both bloody well use it."

A decision was made, in her mind at least. "You know, I can't escape the feeling we're being led down a very dark path," she said, trying to sound philosophical about her sudden urge to just go down the pub. "We can stop now, before someone gets hurt, and have a pint instead."

Harry, for his part, was still contemplative – inwardly weighing up the pros and cons. "Karaoke night, tonight," he said, at length.

Ruth smiled. "Get a few shots in me and I can do a pretty mean 'I Will Survive'"

Enough time had been wasted. Harry strode purposefully across the Grid, calling out to Adam Carter as he went. "Call off the dogs, Adam. We're all going down the pub, instead of getting drawn into this latest shit storm."

As a team, they went then. They walked out the door, but they didn't turn around now, as they made a beeline for The George. And Ruth did survive.

* * *

Beer saves lives. I promise never to get bored at work, ever again.


End file.
